


The Torturous Machinations of the Wizard Gold

by bottledspirits



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledspirits/pseuds/bottledspirits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gold decides to make a special Christmas gift for Belle and finds himself over his head. Will she be able to bail him out of this one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delintthedarkone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delintthedarkone/gifts).



> My RSS for the wonderful delintthedarkone! Happy holidays, dearies ♥

Deep under Storybrooke, magic was brewing. Rumplestiltskin had tinkered and crafted, cursed and cajoled, and was still no closer to achieving his goal.

He sat back on his stool, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the ruin of trinkets and baubles that was his work table.

Time was running short. It was only a few weeks until Christmas, and this idea simply wasn’t panning out. He’d worked it into the ground ever since he’d received his inspiration in October.

He had been running the books in the shop when the boy Henry came by after school. There was some talk about a costume contest and a witch of some sort. Gold had set down his pen carefully. Was this a “get the leather pants” call, or could he be allowed some peace and quiet for once?

Then he mentioned a book. Ah. Not a leather pants and wands situation, then.

Pity. He almost craved the excitement.

And then young Henry had talked about a castle. Something about swine and unfortunate facial protuberances. Or maybe he was talking about a person. Gold hadn’t seen Hook around lately, but he supposed he had to be up to no good somewhere.

There had been several other things. Frankly, the conversation was rather long and out of his depth. Flying cars, belligerent trees, moving pictures…

“Moving pictures?” Gold had asked shrewdly, pausing in his ministrations to a sad-looking glass globe that was sitting on the counter. He set his rag down looked at the boy considerately.

Henry knew he’d caught him then.

“Yeah!” he said, edging closer to the counter. Gold found himself leaning forward to meet him.

Henry waved his hands as he talked. Gold had no idea who the boy had picked up the habit from, but the family resemblance was unmistakable. He found himself smiling as the boy explained the principle of the thing.

“So you’ve got these paintings and stuff, right? Only they don’t just sit there, they move around and talk and-”

“Like a movie?” Gold asked. His eyes were narrowed and his nose wrinkled in what Belle called his “sorcerer’s face.” It was off-putting to many, especially in the old world, but here it gave him, apparently, “the look of a bunny not sure if it’s been given carrots or dung beetles.”

He’d wrinkled his nose even more at that description, and Belle laughed. Naturally he did it again. She had a beautiful laugh, his Belle.

Henry didn’t seem bothered by Gold’s expression. He pulled a book from his bag and set it on the glass counter between them. It wasn’t the usual one, but another heavy, lumpish tome. Books that size held great potential, either for reference or as doorstops, Gold found. There was no in between.

But heaven forbid Belle ever found out what he did with some of the more useless volumes of his library. He prayed she never had to sift through anything as boring as Three Thousand Properties of Desert Cacti.

Gold watched with measured curiosity as the boy fanned deftly through the pages until reaching an illustration of a generously proportioned woman festooned in equally generous amounts of silk and lace. No, that wasn’t right; it was a portrait of a portrait of said woman.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe, Gold thought.

Henry tapped the page, as if they both weren’t looking at it already. Gold found himself thinking once again that this world could stand a little variation in its typography. It was no fun having all the letters look the same.

“So the person who makes the picture uses magic and makes it come to life,” Henry explained. He flipped through the pages again until he found another illustration, explaining, “And they can talk to you and move around to other pictures, just like they were alive.”

Gold went still. His hands were poised on the glass; he reached out and touched the book cautiously.

“Is that so?” he asked, mystified. He turned the book for a better look. Henry made no objection. He seemed rather pleased with the reaction he’d received.

Gold bent over the book as carefully as he would any volume of ancient lore. He squinted, wishing for his gold-rimmed spectacles, and leaned so low he could smell the paper.

“And you say anyone can do this with the right spell?” Gold asked. There was a familiar touch of mischief in his tone.

“Yeah,” Henry said, grinning. He watched his grandfather’s face a moment until a sudden thought brought a new light to his eyes. Henry leaned forward to match the older man’s pose, bracing his elbows on the counter. “Do you think you could…?”

Gold looked up slowly. There was a knowing look in his eyes. His smile matched Henry’s as he stood back, raising one hand with a theatrical air. Henry’s smile threatened to split his face.

“Your wish is my command,” Gold said grandly. He brought his hand down in a trail of purple smoke and sparks.

They landed around the page, and when they settled, the image of a shaggy black dog came to life, chasing its tail in circles.

“That’s amazing!” Henry laughed, kneeling in front of the counter to watch the dog scratch a flea. “Do it again!”

Gold smirked. With a wave of his hand, the pages of the book spilled back of their own accord, landing on the frontispiece. A candle flickered ominously, lighting a window through which a sprawling tree could be seen. As they watched, the tree spread its branches, giving a great stretch before curling its limbs in again. Somewhere, a mouse squeaked.

“This is so cool. I have to show my Mom,” Henry said. He didn’t specify which, but Gold supposed that was the boy’s concern. Henry moved to pick up the book, but Gold stopped him with one hand. A thought had occurred to him.

“Henry, my boy,” Gold said slowly, chewing over an idea. The boy looked up, eyes wide and innocent. Gold wondered if he ever had eyes like that.

His hand loosened its grip on his grandson’s arm, but he did not move it away entirely.

“Do you mind if I hold on to this for a while? I’ll see that it makes its way back to you,” Gold added, curling his hand back to rest on his cane.

Henry regarded him carefully, considering. That’s a deal-maker’s face, Gold thought. He felt the faint stirring of pride.

After a long moment, the boy smiled, and something in his eyes glittered. Gold could have sworn that child had ulterior motives. Strange how that put a smile on his own face.

“Sure,” Henry said, standing up so he was the same height as his grandfather. “Keep it as long as you need.”

Now that was definitely a leading phrase, Gold reflected, but it was impossible to discern the boy’s motives at the moment. Possibly he was amused by the idea of his grandfather wanting to take a closer look at one of his fairy stories. Didn’t he know who invented such tales?

“And with a little luck, I might be able to make some improvements,” Gold added, watching the boy’s face light up.

“Thanks, Grandpa! I’ll see you later,” he said, turning from the counter and throwing his bag over his shoulder in one movement. He was halfway out the door before Gold could think to say goodbye. The bell clanged over the slamming door, making him wince.

He could never...quite get used to that word. Would he ever?

Through the window, Gold spotted Henry crossing the street. Miss Swan was dispensing a parking ticket on the other side. Henry went to her and they embraced before heading down the street together.

Had she asked Henry to come in? Yet she waited outside.

Gold took in a breath he never really let out. He didn’t return to work after that, instead putting aside his polishing rag and the account book to look at Henry’s book. There was a furrow in his brow and something murky in the depths of his eyes.

It was the same look he bore now, fussing over his table. The boy had asked about his book no less than a dozen times over the weeks, asking if Gold had finished yet. One afternoon he’d come, bag heavy on his shoulder, and asked if Gold wanted to look at the others.

Others? Gold had frowned as Henry laid several other books on the counter. He remarked dryly that his counter might not bear the weight. Some of them were thicker than his wrist.

Henry said that was nothing. He ought to see some of the ones in the library. Gold had made a mental note to check in on Belle that afternoon and thanked Henry for the books.

“Take as long as you need,” Henry said, lips curled in a secretive smile. Gold knew he was being wheedled now, but was too engrossed in his work to care.

It wasn’t that he needed these exact books. They were merely the impetus of his idea, and so he prefered to work with them.

There wasn’t much impetus now, however. Gold huffed and waved a hand, watching the pictures come to life. The ink danced under the magic’s influence. He observed with a scientist’s eye, observing and remembering.

But it didn’t last. The movement stopped, the sound died out. He couldn’t get the magic to stick, and it was two weeks until Christmas.

He blew out a breath and tapped his foot against the table. Maybe it would be better to come up with another idea. It was just such a shame. This had so much potential.

A noise on the stairs was his only warning that someone was approaching his work room. Gold went still on his stool, forcing his fingers to stop their endless whirling by pressing them onto the table. He drew a breath and -

“Rumple? It’s dinner,” Belle called from the landing.

He let out the breath again. The instinctive urge to rise up and meet her at the door was overpowering. Gold conquered it by spreading his hands on the table and crossing his ankles before him.

“Yes, dear,” he called back.

There was a creak. He could just picture her standing on the stairs, shifting from one foot to another. For some reason, he imagined her in the long dress and cloak she used to wear. Funny, that.

“Are you coming?” she pressed, not satisfied with his acknowledgment. He’d live down here if she let him, and not a crumb would pass his lips unless she reminded him.

“Yes, dear. In a minute,” Gold answered, shaking the hair from his eyes as he craned over the books.

There was a pause. He became wary of the silence and glanced over his shoulder, only to find her a mere foot behind him, watching. He barely had time to cover his work with both hands before her eyes drifted to his face. His heart leapt in his chest as she smiled.

“What are you doing?” Belle chirped, nodding her head to one side. Her hair shifted down her shoulder. Gold’s eyes followed the waves of curls, and he wondered if she was conscious of the effect.

“N-nothing,” he stammered, looking back at the books. He felt her draw close and braced himself as her hands found his shoulders. After all this time, that simple touch could disarm him.

She pressed herself against his back and nestled her chin against his neck.

“Henry mentioned you borrowed some of his books. Are they good?” Belle asked. He felt her throat hum against his.

“Mmm,” was all he said.

She shifted, and he could almost hear her eyebrows go up.

“That interesting, huh? Are you going to let me read them?” she asked. She started to sway from side to side, letting her dress brush against his legs.

He made a sound that started as a no, but ended in a grunt. Belle stopped her swaying and put her cheek against his.

“I’m the librarian, you know. Books are my job. You wouldn’t want to get into trouble, would you?” she teased, turning her face until her nose brushed his.

Gold laughed; he couldn’t help it.

“You have your books and I have mine, pet,” he said, returning her gestures of affection with a bump on the forehead.

Belle made an exaggerated sigh and stood, running her hands up his front as she went. She wasn’t trying to smooth his tie, that he was certain.

“Very well, have your spells and sorcery,” Belle said. Gold looked up and found her smiling at him. He returned the look without a thought and was gratified when her expression deepened.

She stood looking at him a moment, hand on one hip. He frowned. An unpleasant feeling crept into his stomach under her scrutiny.

“You’re up to something, I can tell,” Belle said eventually, brows arched.

Gold stiffened. She was wearing that half-smile that he’d found meant she was either very amused or very suspicious. Possibly both. A desperate grin flickered into life on his lips.

“Who, me?” he asked, the picture of treachery.

Belle beamed. Gold blushed as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her hands finding his shoulders once more.

“Come up before it gets cold,” she breathed in his ear.

He nodded dumbly. She gave his shoulders a squeeze before she pulled away, skirt swishing behind her. The scent of vanilla followed her across the room, and Gold watched her cross the room with the feeling that she had taken something of him with her.

She paused at the steps and turned to look over her shoulder. He grinned instantly, suppressing the urge to wave at her. Belle smiled and gave the slightest pucker of her lips in his direction.

Then she was gone, up the stairs and out of sight. Gold sighed.

He turned and looked at the wreck of papers and books on his table. This spell was hopeless. There really was nothing for it. He might as well scrap the whole plan and find something else to do for Christmas. It would have to be spectacular at this point, since he was so late in preparing.

Maybe he’d supplement the library’s foundering supply of books. Hell, he’d buy another library and add that to her stock. That might do it.

Gold cast one last, irritable look at his table. He picked up a scrap from among the ruins. It resembled a photograph, insofar as that was possible with magic and parchment. He’d taken a memory from his mind, just like the sorcerer in Henry’s books, and cast it onto the page to create an image.

His own face, weathered and aged, stared up at him. Beside it was Belle’s, bright and cheerful as usual.

They were standing in the park, caught in the middle of a spontaneous waltz. It was one of his cherished recollections of the place.

But there was something off about it. Belle had worn a pretty yellow sundress that day, and he his usual suit. But here she trailed the long linen skirt of the old world, and her green cloak rested on her shoulders. He wore the familiar leather trousers, but his usual accoutrements were missing; his torso bore only the rich red silk that he sometimes wore around the castle.

The clothes were entirely wrong for the setting, yet the pose was the same, as were their expressions of joy. It was, for the most part, as he remembered.

He had used his magic on it countless times, trying to bring it to life. It worked for a short time, but no matter what he tried, the picture eventually went still. He found that by the time the magic wore off, he missed the sound of the birds and Belle’s sweet laughter in the background.

Gold huffed. Enough of this. His true love was waiting upstairs and something - she hadn’t said what, and he suspected that was intentional - was getting cold.

He set the scrap down and lifted himself off the stool. Too many hours bent over the table made his joints ache; Gold made a long, catlike stretch and a muted noise to match. He closed his eyes as he did, and when he opened them again, he found himself looking right at that blasted piece of parchment again. It wouldn’t let him rest.

Gold wrinkled his nose and aimed one finger at the mess, sending a spire of magic straight through. The parchment went up with a tss, and it was with a lighter heart that he climbed the stairs and went to find his Belle.


	2. Chapter 2

Gold made swirls in the remnants of the sauce on his plate. Across the table, Belle set down her fork and watched the rhythmic motions of his spoon as he worked in silence.

He was conscious of her eyes on him while he finished the final curve and set the cutlery aside. Lifting the plate, Gold turned it so she could see his work, a nest of eddies and twists that formed the shape of a rose in pale red spatters.

Belle’s eyes lit up. Their eyes met as the candlelight flickered, sending the shadows dancing through her hair. A smile spread across her face. Gold lowered his gaze bashfully and put the plate back on the table.

“Well, my dear, that was delicious,” he rumbled.

He ventured to look up again and found Belle still watching him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She bridged the gap between them and slipped her hand into his.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Belle whispered. Her smile was contagious; Gold found himself beaming back at her. Her grip tightened on his hand as she added, “Do you know what would taste even better?”

He shook his head. She smiled the devil’s smile as she leaned in, body pressed almost flat against the table to speak in his ear.

Gold’s cheeks went pink at her words. He looked at her, incredulous, and she gave his hand a tug.

“Come along, Mr. Gold,” Belle purred. She rose from the table and pulled him along behind her, holding both hands now and grinning all the way. His gaze flickered from her sparkling eyes to the path up the stairs, checking for any obstacles before being inevitably lured back into her spell.

She released his hands to unfasten the buttons of his jacket, and they were mounting the stairs when she pushed the garment from his shoulders. He heard it land on the step below with a soft rustle. His hands slid up her back, pulling her close to fumble for the catch on her dress. Belle paused to give him time to tug at the zip, taking the chance to push off her heels and kick them to one side. One tumbled down the steps with a clatter.

Gold pulled back slowly, bringing his hands to cup her neck. Belle’s face was flushed. He lowered his lips to hers, capturing them in a kiss that began soft but soon grew hurried and fervent. His fingers found their way under the shoulders of her dress and slipped it down her arms.

She shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool at her feet so she stood in nothing but her slip. Gold’s hands shifted downward, cupping her underneath to lift her bodily from the pile of fabric. He heard her squeal as she was lifted into her arms, but the noise soon transformed into a giggle that she stifled into his neck as she wrapped her arms around him for balance.

He staggered over their trail of clothes, pausing to brace himself against the banister under the protests of his leg. Belle hardly noticed, lacing her hands behind his back and trailing kisses down his neck. His collar stopped her from going further, and Gold reached with one hand to unfasten the buttons as quickly as he could manage. Belle responded by tugging the shirt open with her teeth. A thrill went through him at the thought of finding the marks from her mouth on the silk later.

Gold twirled her around, setting her back on her feet at the top of the stairs. Belle stood on the landing, holding his hands while he regained his balance before dropping his fingers to work on his belt. He stopped her, tangling their hands together and laughing.

“Easy now,” Gold chuckled, stroking her thumbs. The last thing he needed was to trip over his pants on the last step.

Belle leaned down to capture his lips, sending a jolt through him when she pressed her teeth into his lower lips. She brought her mouth to his ears and hissed, “Then hurry up.”

He was shuffling up the stairs in a heartbeat, holding fast to her hands like a toddler taking his first steps. Belle pulled him along with a smile that could rival the sunshine. Somewhere in the scuffle he lost his shoes and one sock; she waylaid him long enough at the bedroom door to send his trousers to the floor and loosen the rest of his shirt buttons.

Gold retaliated by slipping his hands under her chemise, inching the hem along in the wake of his questing fingers. Belle gasped and arched against him. A swathe of warmth fired along his front where their bodies touched, and he swore he was burning.

They stumbled over the threshold, falling to the bed in a frenzied heap. He perched over her on his elbows, panting. A silent, questioning look shot from his eyes to her form; Gold looked her up and down for any sign of injury.

Belle only smiled and clasped her hands behind his neck. Gold released a breath of relief and reached up to brush her hair out of the way, caressing her ear as he went. Her skin flushed under his hand, and Gold grinned.

He was just leaning to kiss the shell of her ear when a noise came from downstairs. They froze, poised in their awkward positions. Belle looked toward the open door.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Gold disentangled himself unwillingly from her frame. He was dressed with a wave of one hand, and a second brought his cane into reach.

“Nothing, love. I’ll take care of it,” he said softly.

He crossed the room, leaving her in her invitingly disheveled state. Belle sat up, pushing the strap of her slip back up her shoulder.

“Rumple…” she called uncertainly. He cast a look over his shoulder and found her biting her lip, hair cascading down her neck. It took a moment to shake himself and remember what he was doing.

“Shouldn’t be a moment, sweetheart,” he mumbled, hoarse. There must have been something reassuring in his tone, for she smiled and pushed herself to sit against the pillows, waiting.

“Hurry up,” she whispered, knocking her knees together coyly. His eyes followed her legs down to the sparkling purple polish she wore on her toenails.

“Of course, pet,” was all he said before he forced himself to turn away and duck out the doorway.

Gold shut the door behind him, and an airborne motion of his fingers locked it as well. He hoped the sound of the tumblers wouldn’t startle her. The last thing he wanted was her to feel locked in.

Best to finish this up quickly and return to the welcome embrace of his true love.

There wasn’t much chance of stealth as he descended the steps. Whoever had caused the disturbance would have plenty of warning of his arrival by the irregular thump-thock of his stride as he negotiated the stairs with his cane.

Perhaps the noise was enough to startle the intruder into good sense. They hadn’t made a discernible sound since the first, and it was enough to cause concern.

He reached the kitchen without incident and flicked on the light. The room was empty, by all appearances. Bubbles drifted across the water in the sink. Gold glanced at the window above, but it was too dark to see anything but his own face reflected dimly in the glass.

It was like chasing a mouse. Skitter, skitter, better run - don’t be there when the Dark One decides to have his fun.

Smirking, Gold left the light on and shouldered his way into the dining room. It was as they left it, complete with the rose he’d drawn for Belle on his plate. Gold stepped closer to the table and frowned. Something in the room was off, he could tell, but he couldn’t say what.

His eyes skimmed to the china display on the far wall. An empty space in the row of cups drew his gaze. Was that the sound they heard? Broken china? No wonder it had been so familiar…

Gold glanced around the floor until he spotted the white shards on the edge of the rug. Conscious of the room at his back, he knelt to pick up one of the bigger pieces and turned it over with his fingers. It was a willow pattern and one of Belle’s favorites.

He was about to restore the cup with a wave of one hand when a scuffle at the doorway made him tense. Gold spotted a streak of blue and the swish of fabric before he managed to rear back on his feet, eyes blazing, startling the intruder in their tracks.

“Oh!” a familiar voice squeaked, making his heart stop.

Gold stared at the figure in the doorway. He could hardly breathe.

Belle tilted her head at him, eyebrow quirked curiously. She was wearing the long blue dress of old and had tossed her cloak over one shoulder. Her hair was pinned back in the way she had always favored when dusting. She’d tied it with a thin, trailing piece of his gold thread that glittered and caught his eye in the low candlelight. By the way she was smiling, the effect was intentional.

His gaze was drawn downward. At her elbow she carried the same basket she used to fetch him straw, once upon a time. The sight of it made him blanche.

She parted berry-red lips and said, “Rumple?”

Her voice was soft, as if she was afraid of startling him. The sound of it made him bristle.

“Who are you?” Gold demanded.

Belle frowned at him.

“I’m your-”

It might have amazed an onlooker to see how quickly he moved for a man who walked with a cane. She barely had time to back against the doorframe before he had his hand around her throat, the other braced against the wall beside them.

“You’re not Belle,” Gold growled. His Belle was upstairs. His Belle hadn’t appeared before him in that dress in years. The last time she had, he’d...he’d…

His fingers sank deeper into her skin. The woman winced, turning her eyes from him. She didn’t even ask him to stop.

Gold froze. When he’d grabbed the shadow in the glade, she had stared back at him, resolute and smiling. That had been a false shade.

But when he’d accosted his maid after their first kiss, she’d flinched and turned her face from his, just the way this girl was doing now. Her anguished pleas still rang in his ears, some nights.

Gold released his hold and staggered back.

“Belle?” he gasped. He curled in on himself, looking smaller than he ever had before her.

She remained motionless, as if awaiting a blow. When none came, Belle slowly uncoiled herself and straightened her gaze to look at him. The fear in her eyes subsided when she saw the way he’d retreated into the dark.

“Rumple,” Belle breathed, relieved.

She took a step closer, but he jerked back, forcing her to halt. Belle cocked her head and watched him. Cautiously, she reached out one pale arm and extended her hand to him. She didn’t plead or entreat, but waited, smiling.

He returned her trusting look with an uncertain stare, like a beaten dog presented with a kind word for the first time in its life. After a tense moment he stepped back into the candlelight and took her hand.

It was warm and soft, just as he remembered. They usually walked arm in arm when they went out, so Gold treasured the intimate moments when their hands found each other’s and rested comfortably, nested together.

“How?” Gold asked. He tucked her fingers between his and regarded her face dubiously. He had left her upstairs, garbed in little more than a scarf of silk.

Belle made a face and looked at their joined hands. Her fingertips tickled at his palm.

“I don’t know, I...I woke up in the basement and it was dark. I assumed you must have been working because I could still the smoke from all those herbs you like to use,” she explained. The purse of her lips told him just what she thought of his tinctures and compounds.

Gold observed her face carefully as she spoke. He would confess to a certain fascination with watching her speak, at least partially driven by his awe that she found talking with him so effortless. Most people had a tendency to flinch. For his part, he would always feel a lump in his throat whenever she was near.

She plucked a stray thread from his sleeve and smoothed the fabric. It seemed to comfort her as much as he.

“I wanted to wait, but it was getting so dark that I started to worry. I came up to find you, but then I bumped into the cabinet and…”

Belle gestured at the vacant slot on the china display to illustrate her point. So that explained the noise. But how on earth…

The basement. The picture. The blasted...

“That spell,” Gold groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Belle held on to his arm and gave him a long look.

“Rumple, what have you been up to?” she asked.

He shook his head, sending his shaggy hair swishing into his eyes.

“It would take too much time to explain, and I’m not sure I understand the details yet. Let me just…”

Gold dislodged her hold on his arm with a light touch and knelt to the pile of broken china on the floor. Whatever was going on, the least he could do was see this taken care of before anyone stumbled over it. Not that he would mind playing doctor…

“Oh!” Belle was crouched beside him in an instant. “There you are. I went to find something to pick up the pieces, but all I had was this.”

She held up her basket as she spoke, and Gold surveyed it curiously.

“Belle, where did you get that?” he asked. There they were, sitting on the floor together like a couple of kids playing hide and seek while he asked about her accessories. If they could see the Dark One now…

She looked at the basket as if she’d never seen it before.

“I don’t know, I just had it. Strange, because I can’t remember what I was using it for. Oh, well,” she shrugged and reached for the pieces of china on the floor. Gold stayed her hand.

“Allow me,” he purred. He narrowly avoided bumping his head on the table.

With a flick of the wrist and a swirl of purple vapor, the cup appeared before them, fully restored, resting snugly in its saucer.

Gold picked it up and handed it to his lady love as if offering a token. From the smile on his face, you’d think he was offering her the world in that cup.

Belle regarded it, lips curving in turn, and blushed over the little article.

“Good thing I have you around,” she said, beaming. Before he could reply, she bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin began to color beneath her lips as she whispered, “My clever little man.”

That time he did knock his head on the table. She exclaimed softly and pulled him toward her, fussing over the bump. He went still as the heat of her began to seep into his chest. Belle looked up, breath caught, and parted her lips.

“You know, we’ve never-”

“Rumple?” came the call from upstairs.

His hands went around Belle - this Belle - instinctively. There was a soft scrape on the stairs. She was - he was -

“You have to hide,” Gold said quickly.

“W-what?” Belle asked, laughing.

“Please, Belle,” he whispered urgently.

He could see her putting two and two together in her mind, and the moment she did, Belle wrinkled her brow, frowning at him.

“You’ll have to tell me eventually-” she began.

“Her,” Gold clarified. If there was anything he could get straight right now, that was it.

She huffed, not put off by his attempt. Her knee was pressing into his thigh. He could hear the footsteps outside getting closer, and his Belle - one of them - was glaring at him with a look that any man would recognize.

“Yes, dear,” he sighed. He felt a shot of relief when she smiled again.

“Good,” she said. She pushed herself up on all fours and scooted away. Rather the opposite of what he would have liked, but at that moment he was hardly in a position to complain.

He watched her glide through the door to the kitchen, skirt swishing behind her. It was barely a moment before the door to the hall opened behind him and he heard the sound of slippered feet enter the room.

“Rumple!” came the concerned cry, and the next thing he knew, Belle was sweeping to his side in her robe, hair tumbling round her shoulders and patting at him with worry.

He sat up, waving her hands away gently and bringing up the rescued cup with him.

“I’m all right,” Gold said gruffly. Her eyes found his, questioning, and he realized she was still under the impression that they had a burglar. He shook his head, rubbing the spot where he bumped it.

“Only a cat, love. I saw the creature out. Managed to hold on the china this time.”

He held out the cup for her to see. Belle’s eyes lit on the pattern with a mixture of surprise and puzzlement.

In awe, he realized the smile she bore for the little cup was the same he’d seen moments earlier. Did it really make her so happy?

She lifted the trinket from his hands and turned it over. Satisfied it was whole, she looked up him, smiling, and took his hand.

“Come on. We weren’t finished yet,” Belle added, whispering in his ear as she helped him stand.

Gold stumbled over his own foot, blushing. Somewhere in the house, he could have sworn he heard the echo of a giggle.

 


	3. Chapter 3

He awoke at dawn, when the light filtering through the curtains fell on the wall opposite and steadily turned the dark red paper a pale pink.

Belle’s hand shifted on his arm. She was spooned behind him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Gold measured his breaths as she stirred. A part of him wanted her to go back to sleep so they could stay in bed longer, but the rest of him was eager to see the way her eyes lit up when she saw him.

Belle stretched out beside him, giving a tiny noise of protest at being awoken by the morning sun. Her body brushed tantalizingly against his. Gold held his breath, waiting.

“Rumple,” she mumbled sleepily. Her hand drifted up to his neck and brushed aside his hair. She knew he was awake, probably from the way he hadn’t moved since she awoke.

“Yes, love?” he asked. The clarity in his voice betrayed just how long he’d been waiting for her.

She pressed close to his back, sliding her hands up his torso and purring:

“My feet are cold. See?”

Before he could process the words, Belle had stuck her cold feet on his calves, making him shriek. He vaulted up from the covers while Belle turned over on her back, laughing so hard she was snorting.

Gold settled back under the blankets. He glowered, but his heart wasn’t in it. Belle collected herself and turned to look at him, a smile spreading her lips.

It was as good an invitation as any. Gold placed one knee on either side of her and lowered his face to hers until their noses were almost touching.

“Is that any way to treat the man who is going to make your breakfast?” he asked, voice hushed. There was no one around to hear - not that he remembered yet - but he wanted to make sure she was paying attention.

Belle puckered her lips thoughtfully.

“Is he going to make pancakes the way I like them? With the bits of chocolate and lots of fruit on top?” she asked. Her eyes skimmed down his collar and Gold swallowed involuntarily.

“Is that how you want them?” he asked. He played at a curl that was trailing over the strap of her slip.

She hummed in response, evidently happy to stay right where they were for the time being. Gold pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Then it shall be done,” he said. It took a little maneuvering to get his knee back over her without injuring either of them, and the effort was just the distraction he needed to escape that gleam in her eyes with their clothes intact. They had to eat sometime.

He has hunting for his slippers under the bed when he heard the mattress dip and saw Belle’s feet moving in the direction of the dressing table. A quiet scuff of wood on wood told him she had picked up her hairbrush and was sitting down to attend to her hair.

Pity. He liked it disheveled, and knew she enjoyed seeing his likewise.

His hand had just closed on his left slipper when there came a crash from the landing. Belle sat bolt upright at her stool; Gold tried to sit up under the bed and received another knock on the head for his trouble.

He was still seeing stars when Belle rose from her seat.

“Rumple, is that…” she drifted off, sounding uncertain.

Shit.

Gold scrabbled backward, struggling to get a purchase on the smooth wood floor. He could hear Belle tiptoeing to the door.

“Wait, love, I’ll go-” he wheezed, stopping to brace his knee before he stood.

“It’s just a cat, right? I want to see!” Belle called. The next moment she was out the door, crying, “Here, kitty, kitty!”

He sighed. No point fighting it now. He pulled himself back onto his knees and waited for the pain in his ankle to subside. Three, two…

An unholy shriek came from down the hall.

“Coming,” Gold called lightly.

There was a certain amount of scuffling and muted swear words as Gold rose to his feet and crossed the room. Most of it came from down the hall.

When he was through the door he saw Belle, at least the most recent version he had seen. She was standing, silk chemise and bunny slippers, staring at a ruin of broken crockery and upturned breakfast foods.

And all the toast probably fell sticky side down, he thought.

Just below her, standing on the first step of the stairs, was her doppleganger. Still wearing her linen dress, though the cloak and basket were not to be seen. She spotted Gold first and tried to look innocent.

“I think the cat’s out of the bag,” not-Belle said placidly.

“Yes, indeed,” Gold replied tersely. That was his favorite bowl sitting smashed on the steps. Beneath it, milk and soggy cornflakes were rapidly soaking into the carpet.

May no one ever learn the Dark One likes cornflakes, Gold thought sourly.

“I wanted to surprise you both,” not-Belle said mournfully. The other two looked up and found her staring sadly at the remains of what had promised to be a pleasant breakfast in bed. “I was going to leave it outside the door and go back downstairs, but then I tripped on the rug.”

“I told you not to wear heels to carry heavy things,” Gold said to the Belle standing beside him on the landing.

“I’ve worn higher heels to dust your furniture,” both women said in unison.

Gold’s mouth snapped shut at that rejoinder. He regrouped by prodding the remains of a stack of toast with his toe.

“And how exactly would I have explained a mysterious breakfast suddenly appearing outside the door?” he asked archly.

Not-Belle snorted.

“You have magic, Rumple. I should think it was obvious,” she pointed out.

“Rumple,” Belle said coolly. Her back was turned, and her tone suggested there was something very unpleasant in his near future.

The other woman’s eyes fell on her clone - or was she the clone? - and her eyebrows went up.

“She sounds angry with you,” not-Belle said.

“You’re not?” Belle asked sharply, glaring at the other woman.

Not-Belle shrugged and said blithely, “I’m just going with it.”

Belle cast her gaze on him instead, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

“I can explain,” Gold said in a rush.

She said nothing. He watched her cross her arms, no doubt cold in nothing but her slip. It was the work of a moment to summon her robe from the bedroom and hold it out to her.

Belle took it begrudgingly, not allowing him to help her into it. Not-Belle eyed it appreciatively.

“That’s a nice pattern,” she commented.

“Thank you,” Belle replied. She sounded surprised by the compliment, but no less pleased by it.

She tucked the robe around her and crossed her arms once more.

“Well?” Belle asked archly. The other woman looked at him at the same time, and he quailed.

“It was a spell,” Gold said. Both women rolled their eyes.

“Was it nice magic, at least? I don’t have to worry about someone trying to steal my face and run around Storybrooke committing atrocities in my name?” Belle asked. Her hands had found their way to her hips.

He let out a long breath.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Gold said moodily.

Belle’s eyes widened, and she glanced from him to her copycat with a bewildered stare.

“Not that kind of surprise,” he said defensively. A thought occurred to him, sending color into his face. “That is, er, unless you’d like to…”

“Show me,” Belle said flatly, cutting him off.

Gold looked at the two women. The other Belle smiled innocently at him, which was to say she wasn’t innocent in the least and was enjoying this quite a bit. No mercy from there.

He puffed.

“Very well, but first…”

A wiggle of his fingers had the wreckage of breakfast reassembling itself before their eyes. Bowls and cups righted themselves, jagged edges sealed back together, and the whole collective shot back into not-Belle’s arms, making her stagger. She frowned at him.

Belle reached over and plucked a hair from the bowl of cornflakes.

“I’m not eating that,” she said.

Not-Belle shook her head and replied, “I don’t blame you.”

Gold rumbled and shot one hand in the air, sending the tray off with a hiss and a spray of sparks. The ladies stared at the empty space it had just occupied, blinking. If he wasn’t so eager to see this whole mess settled, he might have taken the time to remark to himself how adorable she was in surround sound.

He led the way down the stairs and through the house. Upon reaching the glass doors, he turned and found both of them watching, the same expression of curiosity on each face. It made him fumble with the latch and pause to stare at the way the sun shone through both sets of tumbling curls.

“What?” they asked at the same time.

Gold smiled and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he answered. He opened the door and ushered them through. “This way, please.”

It was an awkward piece of chivalry, as he then had to edge past them on the garden path to lead the way. He wondered as he moved if this was what it would be like to have children under foot in the house.

The thought made him stumble, and they were at his side the next moment, holding him up with one elbow each.

“Are you all right?” one of them breathed in his ear, and he didn’t care which at this point. They were so much the same that he would have been unmanned by just one of them.

“Yes, fine, thank you, sweetheart,” Gold said brusquely, stepping forward to stand on his own.

He could feel their eyes on him, no doubt making that same concerned expression she was so good at using on him.

Gold unlocked the outer door to the basement and proceeded down the stairs. He was conscious of his leg with every step. Why hadn’t he brought his cane? He couldn’t even remember where he left it. Usually Belle would bring it to him without a word when he forgot.

He listened to the dry shuffle of lithe feet on the wooden steps as he waited. The morning sun sent shafts of light through the dusty air of the basement. He looked at his work table, strewn with papers and books, and had the urge to tidy up. Whatever for? Belle knew what he was like.

“This,” Gold said, gesturing at a stack of parchment when he could feel both of them at his back. These were his prototypes for this project, an image of a memory selected from his head and cast on paper. He had more of them than he could ever have use for. Once he had the knack for the thing, Gold had found it hard to stop.

One of them reached out and took the topmost sheaf from the pile. She held it up to examine, and the two ladies crowded close to look.

“Oh, it’s...a picture? Of us, in the castle,” Belle explained, holding the picture out to her other self.

“Yes, this was a few months before we left, wasn’t it?” not-Belle asked. She tapped at a detail on the parchment. “I remember when he got this clock.”

Gold cleared his throat, uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure which was more awkward, having the two of them discuss the picture, or thinking of the circumstances behind it.

“I wanted you to have something,” Gold said, ignoring the way their eyes locked on him as he spoke. He pretended to be engrossed in the dust on the window sill and added, “From the, er, happier times. We didn’t exactly have Kodak back then.”

He could feel her smiling blooming the same way he had felt the sun on his cheek that morning. It took all he had in him to resist a grin.

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle sighed sweetly. Other-Belle curled up to her arm and rested her head on her shoulder, smiling from ear to ear.

He cleared his throat and stared into the rafters.

“Yes, well,” Gold said. That was that.

There was a rustle as one of the women took up several more sheets from the pile on the table.

“Wait,” he heard Belle say. He turned his head to see which was speaking and - yes, there were the slippers, and Belle nodding seriously over a wad of papers in one hand. She squinted at them as she shuffled through and said, “Are all of these the two of us together?”

Gold swallowed.

“Yes,” he admitted, feeling himself blush. Was that...forward of him?

Both Belles huddled together over the pictures, frowning.

“Then why is there only one of you, and two of me?” not-Belle asked.

Belle looked up, eyeing him critically.

“Did you wish very hard?” she asked.

“No!” he protested hotly, inwardly cursing himself for not thinking of it earlier. The fun they could have had…

The women turned to look at each other, and something passed between them. Gold felt like a boy with his nose pressed to the toy shop window.

“What?” he asked, sharper than he meant.

Belle turned her head, but still did not look at him. The other Belle nodded.

“I think,” Belle said slowly, at last inclining her gaze at him, “that the source of this problem is…”

She made a motion with her hands, gesturing at her head, and looked at her other self for guidance. Not-Belle took up the thread, nodding seriously.

“Internal,” she concluded.

Gold made a face. It wasn’t one Belle had a name for yet. Later she would refer to it as “displeased rabbit with a sneezing problem.”

“And,” Belle continued quickly, seeing he was about to protest. She glanced at her other self for encouragement before adding haltingly, “Seeing the nature of the problem, the solution is probably equally…”

“Cerebral,” her alternate self finished.

Gold’s face was threatening to collapse on itself. If he wrinkled his nose any more, Belle thought, he’d never get it back to it’s proper shape.

“What what?” he piped. It sounded strange in his un-cursed voice. “What are you-”

The girls looked at each other. Matching grins spread over their faces. They each set down their papers and stepped closer, so that they were on opposite sides of him. He had gone a shade paler. His eyes darted between them, wide and doubtful.

“You two are…” he began.

Before he could finish the thought, the two Belles ducked forward and kissed him, one for each cheek. Gold felt the surge of magic and slammed his eyes shut. Power raced through him, burning his skin, crackling in his hair, pooling in his fingers and charging back out again.

He gasped. Somewhere, he heard a faint giggle. Was that here, or in the past? He used to hear that sound at night, in the Dark Castle, whenever he thought he was standing alone…

Gradually the magic subsided. There was something in his hands. Gold opened his eyes and saw Belle standing before him. Just one Belle, with her bed-tousled hair the white slip that was almost transparent in the sunlight pouring through the window. She was beaming at him with pride; at him or herself, he could only guess. Probably both.

He looked around, but they were alone.

“I think that’s the last we’ll be seeing double for now,” Belle said, reaching forward to take his hands. She saw a scrap of parchment in his fingers and paused. “Is this…?”

Gold lifted the paper to his eyes. He blinked several times when he saw what was on it.

There they were, the two of them, dancing in the park in their Sunday best. Belle’s sundress caught the light beautifully. His dark suit was like a smudge of of india ink against the flowers and greenery, but the sun shone off it as well, glinting on the watch chain at his front.

As he watched, the couple in the photo whirled around, glanced up, and waved enthusiastically in his direct. Gold felt a drop of something warm fall into his stomach. There looked just as happy as they had been in his memory.

He coughed.

“It’s a little early but...merry Christmas, Belle,” Gold said, holding the photo out to her.

Belle hesitated. At first he thought she was displeased, but when she took hold of the paper, her eyes were shining.

“Rumple…” she whispered.

“You deserve happiness, Belle. All that I can give, and more,” he said, brushing a spot of moisture from her cheek with his thumb.

She leaned into the touch, smiling at him.

“You’re a silly rabbit, you know that?” Belle said.

He scrunched his nose at her, eyes gleaming.

Belle laughed, setting the picture aside to seize him by the collar and drag him in for a kiss that had him grunting into her lips in surprise.

They lost their balance. Belle squeaked as they tumbled to the floor, bumping the table as they went. Scraps of parchment fell around them. Gold saw the two of them, dancing and kissing and embracing in photo after photo as the paper fluttered to the floor. Each and every one had come to life.

Belle saw, too. She caught his eye, cheeks pink. This time he was ready when she pulled him close, and the kiss they shared was sweeter than any picture.


	4. Epilogue

“No,” Gold said flatly, before Henry could even ask.

“But…” the boy protested. It was in vain. Gold shook his head, snorting.

“I know what you’re going to ask, before you even say it,” he said. Henry opened his mouth, and Gold countered, “So don’t even say it.”

Henry closed his mouth again, shooting him a look that could only be called scheming. He was quite proud of the boy.

The two of them were standing in the shop, waiting for Belle to emerge from the back. She had been in there for some time.

Silence fell over the pair. Henry plucked at his school sweater while Gold stood on, hands folded elegantly over his cane.

Regret began to seep over Gold, and he considered his quick refusal. He could at least say something.

“Besides, don’t you already have two mothers to keep track of?” Gold asked, arching a look at the young man.

Henry looked up, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t thought of it before.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, sounding dismayed. He leaned back on the counter - and Gold wouldn’t have allowed it of many others - before adding with a snicker, “Still, kind of makes a cool party trick, doesn’t it?”

Gold smirked and resettled his hands on his cane.

“That it does,” he remarked wryly.

A sound at the curtain to the back attracted their attention. Belle staggered through with a stack of books as tall as her torso; as usual, she wore the high heels she favored so much, along with a striped sweater and an attractively angled skirt. Beautiful, but highly impractical.

He was hardly one to judge, however.

Gold stepped forward to help her with the pile, but Belle darted around him and placed them in Henry’s hands instead.

“There you go. I’m sorry we kept them so long,” Belle chirped. She brushed some dust from the top book and grinned with satisfaction.

“That’s okay,” Henry said, struggling to balance the heavy pile. How had she managed all that on her own, in heels? Women were something else.

He nosed the top cover open curiously, sniffing.

“Did you like them? I’ve got others, you know,” Henry offered. He looked at them over the top of the books, waggling his eyebrows. Belle bit back a smile.

“Yes, thank you, we enjoyed them very much. We’d love anything you brought by,” she said, patting his hair out of his eyes. He grinned.

My turn, Gold thought. He slid a book from the pile and held it up with a flourish.

“And you’ll notice…” he said leadingly, skimming through the pages until he reached one of the illustrations. He held it up for young Henry to see the way the dog in the picture was now jumping around the page, chasing a bug.

“Wow!” Henry exclaimed. The books threatened to topple as he bent closer to see. “That is so cool! Thank you, Grandpa!”

Belle noticed the way Gold blinked at the word. She held back a smile as the two chattered over the top of each other. Gold had just enough time to return the book to the pile before Henry was racing around the counter.

“I have to show my Mom! See you guys!”

Gold jerked one hand, throwing the door open right as Henry reached it. The boy was out like a flash, running haphazardly down the street.

“Which…” Belle began, looking at Gold dubiously.

“Who knows,” Gold said, shaking his head. He swung the door shut from across the room, leaving them alone in shop once more.

He turned to Belle, frowning.

“And how did young Henry learn of how I managed to perfect that particular technique?” he asked sternly.

Belle flushed under his look.

“W-well, I had to find some way to explain why all the pictures suddenly came to life!” she protested, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

It was Gold’s turn to blush.

“You didn’t tell him the whole thing, surely?” he asked.

Belle made a face that would rival his own.

“Of course not. He didn’t need that much detail,” she huffed.

Gold ducked his head, swallowing awkwardly.

“G-good. Excellent. Good thinking,” he stammered. He wished he could shut up.

They stood for a moment, silence hanging over them like cobwebs. He felt Belle’s eyes on his face and took a great breath when her hand slipped over his.

“You know,” Belle murmured, angling her lips close to his ear. She pressed close to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“What,” he asked, content to go along with whatever she asked.

He felt her smile against his shirt.

“I kind of liked watching her kiss you,” she whispered.

Gold’s face went crimson. Belle laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss his ear.

A snap of the fingers, a puff of smoke, and they vanished from the shop in the blink of an eye.

No one heard from them the rest of the afternoon.


End file.
